


Latin Lessons

by astrangerfate, orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Discipline, Other, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-02
Updated: 2007-09-02
Packaged: 2017-10-22 18:51:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangerfate/pseuds/astrangerfate, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was written for a friend who just wanted a "quick fix" fic wherein John appeared, spanked Sam soundly, and then there were a few forgiving cuddles.</p><p>This is that fic. Do not expect otherwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Latin Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> A 13-year-old Sam is spanked for misbehaving at school.

Sam Winchester glanced nervously at his furious father. John’s knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel of the Impala, and his eyes were dark with anger. Nothing made him angrier than having to pick up one of his sons because they were misbehaving at school. The boys knew that one of his most important rules was not to draw negative attention to themselves, and Sam had definitely broken that rule today. John stopped abruptly in the driveway, causing gravel to shoot up and Sam to wince. The elder Winchester got out of the car and immediately headed for the passenger side door.

“I don’t know what the hell you thought you were doing, Samuel, but you know better to call attention to yourself like that,” John growled, yanking Sam out of the car.

Sam stumbled as he was caught off balance, then tried to resist as his father dragged him toward the house. “No! Dad, please, I’m sorry!” he begged, not caring if anyone heard him. He was more concerned about the pain of his inevitable spanking than the embarrassment of the situation.

“Yeah, well, you should have thought of that earlier, little boy,” John said unsympathetically, slamming the door violently behind them. He sat down on the living room couch and roughly pulled his struggling son over his knees, disregarding Sam’s squirms and loud protests. He merely pulled the boy into his stomach with his left arm and prepared to blister his naughty behind.

“Ow! Dad, can we please talk about it?” the thirteen-year-old pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion.

John’s only response was a well-placed swat to the crest of Sam’s bottom. “I don’t see what there is to talk about, Samuel Michael Winchester,” he said sharply. He spanked again and again, hard and fast over Sam’s blue jeans. “Your teacher was very curious as to where you learned all that Latin, and you know that you’re not supposed to give anyone reasons to be suspicious of us. Furthermore,” he lectured, bringing the stinging slaps down to the crease of Sam’s bottom, “those particular Latin phrases do _not_ belong in a school setting, young man!”

“I didn’t mean to,” Sam wailed, squirming over his father’s lap, trying to avoid the punishing spanks. “Please, Dad, please…”

“It’s too late for that, Samuel. And I’d keep my mouth shut if I were you, since that’s what got you in trouble in the first place.”

John landed half a dozen more firm swats on Sam’s upper thighs before yanking him to his feet again. The boy’s eyes widened, apparently hopeful that John was finished with his spanking, but his father did not release him. Instead, John kept a firm grip on Sam’s upper arm while he began unzipping his son’s pants.

“Dad, no!” Sam pleaded. His voice was high and frightened, and his eyes were sparkling with the tears he tried to hold back. “Please, I made a mistake—”

“That’s right, and now I’m making sure you don’t make the same mistake twice,” John said firmly. He jerked the jeans down swiftly, following them with Sam’s cotton briefs. The clothing fell loose around Sam’s ankles, keeping him from kicking his legs as he felt himself being lifted into the air and draped over John’s lap again.

John surveyed the bottom before him, tinged pink from his earlier efforts. He shook his head angrily, trying to forget the phone call he had received just an hour previously, telling him to come pick up his youngest son. He started spanking again, the blows coming as quickly as his hand could descend.

Sam could instantly feel the difference, both in his father’s force and his sudden lack of protection. He gasped in pain, and the floodgates opened. He started sobbing breathlessly, the tears pouring down his cheeks. “Please, Daddy!” he begged again, choking a little on the words. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry…”

John ignored his son’s words, hardening his heart to the pained cries. His hand was stinging almost as much as he could take, and he noticed that Sam’s skin had turned a brilliant tomato red. It was time to drive the lesson home. He concluded the punishment, punctuating every word with a biting smack. “I do not care how badly you are provoked, Samuel Winchester,” he barked. “You do _not_ attempt to exorcise your teachers. _Particularly_ your Latin teachers!”

“Yes, sir,” Sam bawled, crying furiously. “I promise!”

“Good. If I have to repeat this conversation, my belt is coming off, you understand?” With that, John placed four more sharp swats to the tops of Sam’s thighs. Sam bucked and howled, the spanks and the threat of John’s belt bringing on even more impassioned sobs.

John rubbed his burning hand across Sam’s shoulders, murmuring low reassurances. “Shh, Sam,” he soothed. “It’s all right, kiddo, it’s over now. Everything’s going to be okay.” He replaced his son’s briefs, careful not to chafe the reddened skin, before continuing to rub his back.

Sam’s crying quieted before too long, until he had no more tears but continued to shudder with emotion. John lifted him gently to sit on his lap, pulling him in close to his chest. Unlike his brother, Sam had not yet outgrown his need to be held after a spanking.

“It’s okay, buddy,” John murmured. “I’ve got you.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Sam apologized, his remorse evident on his tear-streaked face. “I won’t do it again…”

“It’s okay. I forgive you,” John said kindly, wrapping his arms around his smallest boy, holding him tight. He kissed the top of Sam’s head, breathing in his love for his son and finally seeing some of the humor in the situation.

“You know, Sammy, when I was your age we would throw spitballs at the teacher when her back was turned,” he said dryly.

“Daaaaaad,” Sam moaned, pretending not to be amused, but John could feel the tension easing itself from his shoulders as he snuggled in a little closer, secure in his father’s love once more.


End file.
